


The Sorcerer's New Clothes

by gatepromise



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatepromise/pseuds/gatepromise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has been long, long overdue for new clothes.  Set between seasons 3 & 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sorcerer's New Clothes

It was just like old times, really, the two of them on an adventure in the woods, Arthur pouting and blaming Merlin for it…

Really, Merlin should know better than to try to lighten Arthur’s mood. He had plenty of experience at it in the past, and it never went well. 

Merlin tried anyway.

He glanced down at the boar, who had ceased trying to knock their tree down and was now snuffling along the base of it, occasionally glancing up at its’ captors with a threatening growl. 

“I think it’s getting bored, don’t you, Sire? I’m sure that soon enough, it will wander off and we’ll be able to return to Camelot for reinforcements.”

Merlin glanced up at the regent. Arthur was looking down at him, his mouth tightening slightly. He said nothing. Merlin took that as encouragement to continue.

“At least we know it actually exists, right? I mean, it wouldn’t be a good thing, to have people making up stories about mythical beings. No, this one’s real, in all his green beastliness, there he is, right there…”

“Merlin.”

“Yes, Arthur?” 

“Stop talking.”

“Well, I’m just trying to help.”

“You’re not.”

Merlin fell silent again, wracking his brain for something helpful, until inspiration struck. 

“Ah!” he exclaimed. Why hadn’t he thought of this sooner?

He fished around in his inner jacket pocket and—yes, there it was, he hadn’t dropped it. He still had his spare flint. 

He was already balancing precariously on his tree branch, but he needed both hands to spark his flint and get the torch lit again. He balanced his torch between his thighs, settled his narrow backside on the branch, and clicked the flint, all the while keeping an eye on the boar-creature below, who, for the moment, seemed to be distracted from Arthur and himself and had wandered about six feet away from the tree.

Click. Click. Click. This would be so much easier if he could just use his magic, but that wasn’t a possibility, not with Prince Pissant on the branch above him, watching him. He was just going to have to do things the old fashioned way.

“What are you doing? Hold on to the branch, idiot, you’re going to fall”, Arthur said grumpily from above.

Merlin supposed he should feel a bit warmed by the prince’s concern. “I’m not going to fall, I just have to get this lit again…”

Click. Click. Nothing, yet. Merlin was starting to worry that too much of the pitch on his torch had already burned away…maybe there wasn’t enough left to ignite it again?

“Merlin, hold on to the tree!” Arthur’s voice was louder and more insistent now, but Merlin couldn’t spare him a glance. There, there was a bit of flame, caught on the pitch. Carefully Merlin blew on it lightly, willing it to expand.

He felt Arthur fist a hand in the collar of his jacket, saw in his peripheral vision one of Arthur’s boots as he bent from his own branch to reach for Merlin.

“Merlin!”

Things happened so quickly then, Merlin would never be able to recall the precise order. He heard a loud cracking sound and the vibration as the boar hit the trunk of the tree and the tree shook violently. He remembered Arthur’s boot hitting the back of his head as Arthur toppled forward, and he himself overbalanced backwards. He heard boar sounds, and as if from far away, knew he muttered a spell, though later he couldn’t remember which one. There was a loud whoomp sound, and he thought Arthur called his name, and then what sounded like wet splattering…somethings. And then he felt a rush of heat, and nothing for a moment, and then…a rather pleasantly cool breeze against his skin.

His very bare skin.

Where were his clothes? He knew he’d had them on a moment ago…

And then Arthur was there, kneeling over him, dirty and sooty, his eyes wide and startled.

“Merlin!”

“I’m right here”, Merlin mumbled. “No need to shout.”

Relief and exasperation warred for dominance, but practicality won out. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Well, was he? His head hurt a bit where Arthur’s boot heel had caught it, and he had a general sense of being bruised all over from the fall, but other than that…he dipped his chin to look down the length of his body. He appeared sunburned and a bit singed. All the hair on his chest and arms was gone. He didn’t check down any further, didn’t want to know about any more missing hair. 

“Merlin!” Now Arthur sounded a bit scared. Demanding an answer.

“Um. I don’t think so. I think I’m naked, though.” Belatedly, Merlin thought to cover his crotch.

And that made Arthur amused. “Well done, Merlin. Yes you are.” 

And that made Merlin annoyed. “You know, you could cover me with something.”

Arthur chortled. “Here, have a leaf.” He grabbed a handful of sodden leaves from the ground, dropped them on Merlin’s stomach.

“I hate you…”

“I know you do.” Arthur laughed harder.

“It isn’t funny, Arthur”, Merlin groaned, and Arthur sobered a bit.

“You’re right, it isn’t. You could have broken your scrawny neck and my royal one too. What were you thinking, anyway.”

“I was trying to…the boar!” Merlin sat up abruptly. How could he have forgotten that they were being held hostage by a magical green boar beastie?

“…exploded.” Arthur finished for him, and gestured towards the tree and the forest floor. 

There were green slimy boar parts scattered about everywhere. And the entire trunk of the tree was blackened. Merlin’s torch lay about ten feet away.

Hunh. Well that was one hell of a magical backlash.

Arthur was just looking at him, looking very puzzled and thoughtful. Merlin thought he might be expecting…something. 

“Well, it’s obvious what happened.” Merlin started. He gestured towards the torch nearby. “There must have been pitch on the tree, which ignited when I dropped it. The villagers we spoke to did say the creature was extremely flammable.” 

“Mm,” Arthur said, non-committal. Still watching him closely.

“Well, what else could it have been, do you think?” Merlin asked. He gave Arthur a slow blink, his most innocent expression.

Arthur still looked skeptical. He looked at the charred tree, at the boar parts, at the torch, and back at Merlin. “Of course,” he drawled. “What else could it have been.” 

Merlin shook his head in apparent bewilderment. “We got lucky, once again. What a fluke. No sense looking a gift monster in the mouth, eh?”

Arthur just continued to look at him with an unreadable expression.

Merlin shifted uncomfortably. Pine needles were starting to stick to his bare bum. 

“Arthur. I’m rather cold, here…”

Arthur appeared to shake himself from his contemplation. “Right, of course. Here.” He unclasped his red cloak from his throat, shook it out and settled it around Merlin’s shoulders.

“Ugh. This is covered in boar gore.” Merlin shifted the rich material to cover his modesty, moved to stand up. 

“Oh, don’t be such a girl, Merlin.” Arthur was completely predictable in some things.

“I am not a girl!” Merlin hollered, grabbing his very respectable boy parts and pointing it at Arthur in an unmistakable “SEE!” gesture.

Arthur laughed again. “I wasn’t looking.” He helped Merlin cover himself fully, his expression and his touch surprisingly gentle. “I’m afraid you’ll have to make do, unclean or not. There are indecency laws in Camelot, so you won’t be able to stroll back in your present state. However glorious it may be.” The gentle expression was replaced with a smirk.

Merlin tried to glare, but found himself suddenly hoisted up and over Arthur’s shoulder in one fluid motion.

“What are you doing? Put me down! I can walk!” Merlin squawked. 

“I know you can walk, but your boots went the same way as your clothes.” Arthur gingerly picked a piece of stray burnt leather from between Merlin’s toes, flicked it away. Merlin couldn’t see his face, but he could imagine his lips curled back in disgust. “You can’t walk barefooted in the woods, you’ll cut your feet to ribbons and Gaius will be quite cross. I really don’t want to be subjected to his eyebrow of disapproval.”

Merlin grumbled, but he had to admit that Arthur had a point. They weren’t that far from Camelot, after all. He resigned himself to his present view for the next couple of hours: that of Arthur’s slightly wiggling hips as he walked with his burden. 

“Off we go, then”. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

By the time they’d reached Camelot, it was almost nightfall. Merlin had to admit, he was impressed with the prince’s stamina. He’d barely broken a sweat or breathed heavily the entire way, stopping only twice to rest and drink from the stream they’d followed as their point of navigation to the citadel. It had been uncomfortable for Merlin, in his bent over position for so long, but Arthur had proclaimed him “feather-light” and hadn’t complained at all.

Merlin imagined what kind of looks the prince must be getting, carrying a man draped in his cloak, bare feet sticking out. He was seeing the strange looks from the reverse side, and he did his best to ignore them. It was worse than being in the stocks.

Leon was the first to greet them in the courtyard, his face wry but nonetheless professional. His blue eyes twinkled, but he gave no outward sign of wanting to laugh. 

“Welcome back, Sire. I assume you did not run into any difficulty?”

“Our hunting trip was a success, Sir Leon, and once again Camelot is free of ugly magical things.” Arthur returned jovially. “Only Merlin here had some slight problems with his attire going missing, didn’t you, Merlin?” 

Arthur swung around so that his back was to Leon and Merlin was facing him. He patronizingly patted Merlin’s backside. 

Merlin raised his head slightly, just shook his head at Leon’s smirk. 

“I’m going to deposit him at Gaius’, have him checked out and clothed, and then we’ll meet in a candlemark for the day’s report.” Arthur had swung around again, heading towards Gaius’ quarters. 

“Safe passage, both of you”, Leon called. Arthur chuckled, and Merlin resisted the impulse to slap his royal backside.

He knew Arthur and the knights would be laughing about this for a long time to come.

~~~~~~~~ 

Gaius found it pretty amusing too, once he’d gotten over his alarmed concern at the sight of Arthur carrying a naked Merlin into his chambers. He immediately began asking rapid fire questions, most of which weren’t answered as Arthur smoothly slid Merlin from his shoulder to an upright position. 

Once he’d determined that Merlin was conscious and in one piece, and he’d heard the gist of the story, Gaius had shared a chuckle with Arthur, and then sent Merlin to his room with a bundle of clothes and some soothing salve for his red skin.

He was, however, somewhat surprised when Arthur lingered, obviously waiting for Merlin, and then asked, “What was that you just gave him, that bundle? I thought he kept his clothes in his room?”

“Those are actually my clothes, Sire. With what he was wearing today gone, he doesn’t have anything left. Well, except for one set, and they’re in the wash, after mucking your stables out yesterday.” 

“What? What are you saying?” For the second time that day, Arthur felt slowly growing disbelief.

“Surely you’ve noticed that his clothes are all quite threadbare? He’s had the same ones since he arrived in Camelot, after all, and that was nearly six years ago. They’ve all been mended and washed within an inch of their usefulness.”

Actually, Arthur had noticed, but he thought that was just what all peasants wore.

“Well, why doesn’t he get some more, then? He does have a job, after all.” Arthur fought to keep the impatience from his voice—this was Gaius he was speaking with, after all—but really, Merlin was so dim witted at times. If he needed new clothes, he should get new clothes, it was that simple.

“Indeed, my lord”, Gaius answered, and Arthur heard something in his voice then—a tone Gaius rarely used with himself or his father, but when he did, even the imperious Uther was often humbled by it. “You are aware that clothes cost money, I’m sure, and working in the royal household does not pay especially handsomely.”

“Gaius, he makes a fair wage!”

“Yes, of course, Sire.” And there it was again, that look and that inflection that wasn’t quite insulting, but was. “And you also know, I’m sure, that most of that wage is sent to Ealdor to care for his mother. What is left over often is contributed to our household”. Gaius indicated the chambers he and Merlin shared.

“Well, why didn’t he tell me—I would’ve….”

And there it was. Arthur trailed off at Gaius’ expression. In spite of his best efforts on this trip, he was now getting the Eyebrow of Disapproval, in full force. 

Gaius continued to say nothing, just looked at him. 

Arthur knew why Merlin hadn’t said anything, of course. He never asked for anything for himself. 

And why that was, well. Arthur didn’t want to examine that any further.

He felt his own face begin to heat in what was undeniable shame, an emotion not familiar to him. He had a quick flashback to Gwen’s angry face and voice from a few years ago. “You shouldn’t have to be told to think of others besides yourself! You’re not a child!.”

He certainly was feeling like one right about now, though. He passed a hand over his face, thinking.

All right. All right, then. He could fix this. 

“Gaius. Tell Merlin he has the night off, and that he will not be needed until the midday meal, after morning training. Thank you, Gaius. Good night.”

“Wait. Arthur?” Gaius took a tentative step towards Arthur. “If I may plead a favor of you…please do not tell Merlin I told you about his clothing situation. He would be quite mortified to know that you know.”

Arthur merely nodded, and then forced himself not to run from the room. He had a lot of preparations to put in motion.

~~~~~~~~ 

Gaius’ slippers shuffled along the cobblestoned courtyard as Merlin hurried towards the castle entrance, and Arthur’s quarters, to make it in time for the noon bell. He didn’t want to be late. Already feeling a bit insecure about his job and his place at Arthur’s side after yesterday’s hunting fiasco, and the state he’d been brought home in, he tried to at least pay attention to the time, but instead had been delayed at the cobbler’s. He had ordered new boots for himself, but the craftsman had balked when Merlin couldn’t pay the full amount up front, instead offering partial payment now, the rest when the boots were completed. As a result, Merlin would have to wait an extra two weeks—perhaps longer—for boots that fit properly, in order to replace his own incinerated pair. In the meantime, he was stuck wearing an old pair of Gaius’ castoffs, ones that were too bulky for his own narrow feet. He had no other alternatives, though. He wouldn’t take money from Gaius, despite his guardian’s repeated offers. 

He just fervently hoped that he wouldn’t be called upon to run or ride or do anything physical with just these foot coverings. No doubt they would provide a great deal of fodder for Arthur and the knights to laugh at him and tease. 

Not that they really needed an excuse. 

The rest of his outfit wasn’t much better. He’d used a washing and drying spell on his one remaining set of presentable clothes, so at least they were clean, but they were also worn thin, almost to the point of being see-through. The seat and knees of his breeches had been patched and mended so many times that he wondered if there was any original cloth left. And he only had one pair of stockings left, and they’d been darned to the point that he could feel a large lump against the sole of his foot, which was rubbing against the too-large slippers he wore, which no doubt would be producing painful blisters before the day was over. He had no jacket now, and he shivered slightly in the cool midday. He did have a winter cloak, an old grey one Gaius had given him during his first winter in Camelot, but it wasn’t the time for that, now. He’d just have to make do until he could save enough money for a new outer layer…or let enough time go by that he could magic something.

The most powerful sorcerer in all the lands, and he couldn’t even keep himself decently clothed.

The worst part was, he had overheard Gaius telling Arthur about his lack of funds and his lack of clothing, so now he couldn’t even magic himself a new wardrobe without possibly arousing suspicion. Merlin knew that the prince already was disbelieving of the lame excuse he’d offered to explain away the exploding creature yesterday. Merlin had managed to distract him once again, but Arthur had been contemplating him quite seriously, and it wouldn’t do to push his luck, not with the prince in the kind of mood he’d been in.

Merlin had been so utterly humiliated that Gaius had told Arthur about his sorry state that he’d had to fight bitter tears. How could Gaius do that, tell the prince about his inability to provide for himself? It had felt belittling. He’d stopped listening after the first few words, wanting to bury himself in a hole and never emerge. He hadn’t said anything to Gaius that morning, but he knew that the old physician had picked up on his prickly mood. He’d left Merlin an extra sweet tart and meat pie before departing for his rounds and hadn’t even recited his usual list of chores for Merlin.

Merlin sighed. He was pathetic. No wonder Arthur had found himself other confidantes in the knights. They may be commoners like himself, (except Leon, of course, and Gwaine, but that was still a well-kept secret), but at least they had decent clothes and could support themselves independently. 

Destiny was no doubt laughing at him.

He sighed again as he ducked into the royal kitchens. 

“The prince’s meal, please”, he requested, as he did every day at this time.

“Already been taken up, luv”, came the quick response from the daytime cook, Tillie.

“By who?” 

“The round-table knights, I think.” Well, at least she’d stopped calling them the low-born knights. It had taken nearly a year of admonishments for her to break that habit. “They’re all up there now, after their drillin’ this morning. Quieter than usual they are, too. Where’ve you been, luv? Missing your blue eyes this morning, we were.” 

“Helping Gaius”, Merlin answered absently, already turning towards the stairs. So, Arthur had already had his meal delivered, then, and was apparently dining with the knights.

Should he wonder what he was needed for then?

Clenching his toes in order to keep his floppy shoes on, Merlin climbed the stairs to Arthur’s rooms, wondering what he’d find. Since when did he eat in his chambers with the knights? This was new.

He heard them from half way down the hall, although they weren’t being particularly boisterous. It wasn’t tavern-noise level anyway. 

Why was he nervous? Arthur had left the message for him to come now, and that’s what he was doing. It wasn’t like he was intruding or anything. 

Was it?

Chiding himself for his paranoia and his self-pity, Merlin opened Arthur’s door and let himself in. 

The knights all called friendly greetings to him, particularly Gwaine and Lancelot, and Arthur nodded his acknowledgement, smiling slightly. Merlin noticed that there was a cleaned plate at his setting at the table where they all were—not the round table, Arthur’s own rectangular table. His was the only meal plate, though the others all had tankards. There was also a seventh, empty chair pulled close to the table, at Arthur’s right, next to Lancelot. 

He looked a question at Arthur, telling him with his expression, I’m here. What did you need?

Arthur merely gestured for him to step closer, and pulled the napkin he’d been using for his meal from his lap, setting it on the table. Then he turned to the bundle on the out of place chair, indicating for Merlin to take it. 

“Arthur?”

“Merlin.” Arthur spoke in his usual, ‘Isn’t it obvious’ voice. “Take these and go behind there”, he gestured to his changing screen in the corner of the room with his chin. “Put these on and come out, let’s see how you look.”

Oh gods. Clothes. Arthur was giving him clothes. Merlin could feel his face burn in embarrassment. Arthur often donated some of his faded, outdated or overly mended clothes to peasants as charity. That, apparently, was what he was doing now.

Merlin wanted to disappear.

He glanced at the knights, expecting to see smirks or at least understanding, polite smiles. He was surprised instead to see open, expectant looks on their faces, and Lancelot even winked at him, giving a quick jerk of his head towards the dressing screen. 

Either Lancelot was in on the prank on him—which hadn’t happened yet, in the time he’d known Lancelot—or this wasn’t a prank. He glanced at Gwaine. He was smiling at him, and not in a way at all that suggested he was mocking. 

“Hurry up, _Mer_ lin, we haven’t got all day”, the prince ordered impatiently.

Feeling more confused than he’d ever felt, Merlin went, scooping up the indicated bundle with only a glance at it. 

Once behind the screen, he opened the folded garments one by one. There was a pair of lightest wool black trousers, so soft they felt like they had been brushed, and a midnight-blue tunic of heavier linen. Tucked inside the outer bundle was a pair of pristine white stockings, and folded into the smallest square, silken smallclothes. 

They were all of a quality such as Arthur would wear. 

He couldn’t wear these. His station…

Merlin wanted to call out that he couldn’t wear these, these weren’t clothes for him. 

Instead, he pulled his thin shirt off over his head, kicked off the slippers, shucked his trousers. He’d give them their laugh, and be done with it, and then he’d go back to being the fool. He knew how to play this game.

Except…when he put the clothes on, they felt more right than any clothes he’d ever worn. The tunic was warm and so tailored that he didn’t even really need a belt, and the trousers…the trousers were the most form-fitting he’d ever worn. Even the smallclothes were perfect…and he hadn’t been wearing any when he’d come in.

These weren’t clothes for anyone else. They’d obviously been made for him. 

“Merlin, it shouldn’t be taking that long, come out here!” Arthur’s demand snapped him out of his reverie, and, with one glance at the stockings he hadn’t had the time to slip into, he stepped barefooted around the screen and into the outer area where Arthur and the knights waited.

He didn’t realize it, but the sunlight from the window was backlighting him.

There was an almost stunned silence as the six men at the table just looked, and then--. 

Lancelot smiled encouragingly at him, nodded, and gave him a thumbs up.

Percival looked him up and down appraisingly, and then nodded, almost imperceptibly. 

Elyan’s eyes widened almost comically.

Gwaine let loose with a long, low wolf whistle.

Leon, who’d been in the middle of sipping from his tankard, began to quietly choke on his drink.

But it was Arthur’s reaction…Arthur, who simply swallowed and then licked his lips, and met Merlin’s eyes approvingly. No mocking laughter, or pity, or teasing, just unabashed approval in his eyes.

Rather than feeling humiliated, Merlin was suddenly feeling a very different kind of heat, one that made him lower his lashes almost demurely at Arthur rather than bow his head.

“Merlin old friend, your cheekbones are kicking right off…” Gwaine began, and the moment was broken. Some of the others started to snicker, and Merlin hugged himself protectively, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than he had the day before, when he’d found himself naked on the forest floor. “You look great.”

“Very well, then”, Arthur. brusquely, as if royally declaring a grainery distribution satisfactory, and called out for the seamstress, who was apparently waiting just outside the door. 

“Wait a minute, Arthur, what are you doing, I can’t wear these.” Somewhere between Gwaine’s whistle and now, Merlin had found his pride again.

“Doing a fine job of it right now”, Lancelot murmured, and Merlin narrowed his eyes at him, in a sort of disappointed “Not you too” look. Lancelot just shrugged back, unaffected.

“You don’t like them?” Arthur asked, sounding surprised. Like that could be the only reason for not being able to accept such fine, rich clothes.

“I like them just fine, very much, really, but it’s, it’s…well. I have my own clothes, I can’t pay for these….”

Arthur looked at him incredulously. Elyan made a very quiet, disapproving “Mm-mm” sound.

“Are you dense? Of course you’re not paying. It’s being paid for out of the royal budget.”

“Why?”

Arthur answered in a tone of exaggerated patience. “Well for one thing, your own rags are so shapeless and ill fitting they’re just hanging off your bottom…”

To a man, everyone in the room looked at Merlin’s bottom. 

“And for another, they’re so old they are but wretched rags, and so thin that that talk yesterday we had about indecency in Camelot is about to come into play again…”

Merlin did his best to ignore what sounded like several of the knights muffling chuckles.

“And thirdly, you represent me and the royal household, and I cannot have you looking like some sort of street-urchin-ragamuffin.”

Gwaine mouthed “Ragamuffin?” at Leon.

Trying to diffuse the moment, and all too aware of the seamstress dimpling prettily at him off at Arthur’s side, Merlin went for indignant. “My mother made those clothes!” 

“Yes, well, that’s very nice, and I’m sure at the time they were the height of fashion and practicality, but they’ve had a good run and now its time they were retired.”

Someone at the table muttered “…and burned.”

When Merlin opened his mouth to protest further, Arthur rolled his eyes and cut him off. “Look, Merlin, you need these clothes, that’s why you’re getting them. Your duties are changing and expanding and your appearance must reflect that appropriately. And anyway, why am I bothering to explain this to you? Because I said so, that’s why. That’s all the reason you need.”

Some of the knights raised their eyebrows at that, and Merlin looked faintly outraged.

Arthur ignored them all, addressed the seamstress. “Mary, isn’t it?”, and at her curtsey and nod, continued, “I want six summer and six winter weight tunics of this style made, this color, red, green, and oh, I don’t know”, Arthur waved his hand dismissively, “Whatever colors won’t make him look more pasty.”

Even Lancelot snickered at that.

“And have the same number of trousers made too, this color, summer and winter…”

“Arthur, no. They’re…they’re too tight.” 

Arthur ignored him. “… undertunics, hose, and smallclothes.” At this, Arthur did smirk at Merlin’s blush. “Do you need nightshirts too?” Off Merlin’s frantic shaking of his head in the negative, Arthur instructed Mary, “Yes, two sets of bedclothes too, for each season.” 

Gwaine leaned towards Leon and asked, sotto voce, “Is Merlin kept, now?”

“Shut up, Gwaine! Not helping!” Merlin told his friend, and Arthur just glared daggers at him. Gwaine smirked and shrugged and tossed his hair. 

Leon looked contemplative, like he was actually wondering the same thing.

“What about his neckerchiefs?” Lancelot asked helpfully, and Merlin rolled his eyes. 

“No, no more neckerchiefs, they’re ridiculous.” Again, off Merlin’s insulted look, Arthur just shrugged. “If you’re cold in the winter, you can wear a scarf like everyone else.”

“You do have a very nice neck, Merlin”, Percival intoned seriously in his deep voice, and everyone turned to stare at him. Percival was known to be a man of few words. He stared back levelly, lifting his hand in a “What?” gesture. “Well, he does.”

Arthur seemed to take a moment on that before turning his attention back to Mary the seamstress. “And he’ll need a lightweight jacket, and a heavier cloak for winter….”

“No! No, Arthur, this is too much…”

“I’ll decide what’s too much.” Arthur turned to Mary again, who had been writing his instructions with a small quill. “Can you think of anything else? No? Good, then, send in the cobbler, won’t you…”

“Arthur, wait, no—“

“Merlin, stop being so difficult. You’ll need a new belt and at least one new pair of boots…”

“I just ordered a new pair of boots”, Merlin groaned, and Elyan laughingly remarked that Merlin’s face was now “As red as that apple in Arthur’s fruit bowl.”

Ignoring Elyan, Arthur answered, “Fine, then you’ll have at least two pairs of boots. You’ll use them, I’m sure.” 

But he did glance at Merlin, and something did flicker in his eyes for a moment. Before sending the seamstress on her way, he told her, “Check the fit on those trousers, will you? They seem a bit…loose.”

Amidst more snickers from the knights, Merlin sank into the one empty chair, not allowing Mary the seamstress to check his girth. “Arthur”, he said wearily, “I’ll need to be able to bend over and kneel down to do my chores, you know.” 

“Oh, you will”, Arthur’s voice deepened with both teasing and promise. “You will”.

Several flights down in the royal kitchens, Tillie the day cook frowned up at the ceiling. She’d been surprised by what had seemed like a quiet day for the knights gathering, but now there was all manner of hoots and hollerings and carrying on like a raucous party was going on up there. It was unseemly, truly. The prince had never behaved this way before these low-borns had arrived!

“Better prepare some extra food, girls”, she directed the staff. “Sounds like the prince is entertainin’ tonight.”


End file.
